yikes

I needed to think about something other than work for thirty seconds…

Holy sheepshit. Day four on the job, and they weren’t kidding about the workload here in the big city. It might have something to do with the fact that my brain had atrophied into a veiny pile of chewed gum over the last few months (ok, years), but I wasn’t expecting the “who can leave the latest” contest that’s been going on since I got here. Which, by the way, I won last night. 11:48 pm bitches.

Not to mention the fact that everyone dresses like they’re attending a hipster funeral. So cool. So black. So tight. I just can’t compete. Me of the hillbilly New Balance and hayseed Banana Republic. Plaid shirts? I might as well be shucking corn at my desk.

So in an attempt to up my coolness quotient, I thought I’d start with the shoes. I ordered a totally awesome pair of black high top Nikes, and headed off to work yesterday with my spirits high, my tunes cranked, and my right toe quickly developing a blister. By the time I made it to the office, I was limping like a dude with a club foot.

I headed into my building sucking back a quadruple espresso over ice, digging in my pocket to turn off my ipod with one hand, and fumbling for my security pass in the other. Before I knew what the hell was going on, I stubbed one of my clumsy new shoes on an escalator step, and began a slow motion fall toward the escalator with both hands in my pockets. “No worries,” I thought. “My lips will break my fall.”

Suddenly, I’m face down, ass up on the escalator, struggling to get my hands out of my pockets. The iPod might have been half the reason I was in this predicament, but it did a nice job of drowning out the laugh track coming from the crowd behind me.

The really nice thing about working in a huge office of 750 people is that just when you’ve forgotten about what an ass you made of yourself that morning, there’s someone who was behind you on that escalator around every corner to remind you.

Regardless, things have been great. My incredible wife has transformed a 600 square foot shoebox into a home as cozy as a humidor. I’m surrounded by super-smart people working their asses off, and I’m slowly getting the hang of this thing.

Now let’s see if I can survive the weekend, or if this job will suffocate me. I mean, like, literally. The following is an actual email I got this morning, copied and pasted for your reading pleasure:

Good Morning,

Please advise if you and/or your department will be working this weekend and will be needing additional air circulation.

Please include an approximate time you'll be needing air, beginning to end and also copy Angela Burton on all requests.

The building requires these requests to be in by 1pm Fridays.

Thanks and have a great weekend all.

Regards,

Angela Smith